CHAPTER 47: CHAPTER 25: THIS IS THE DIVINE DOCTOR! _2

It was like when he planned to set up two sheds in Yayoi’s yard to use as a pharmacy and a clinic. He was originally going to hire people to do it, but right after he finished discussing it with Jubei, the whole village showed up, bringing their own materials. In a flurry of activity, they helped him put up the sheds, and not a single person mentioned money from start to finish.

The working people are still so honest and simple, even the Japanese peasants are the same. As he promised, if he had money, he’d give them some, if not, he’d pay in radishes and buckwheat, and if he had nothing, it would just be put on hold. The villagers, though never saying so, all remembered this in their hearts and were using this way to repay him.

Even Yayoi’s whole family had really warmed up to him, their fear and wariness had pretty much disappeared, and the vague sense of distance between them was gone.

At this point, Harano could finally say with certainty that he and his simpleton son had truly put down roots in Hibi Village. Now, unless the Hosokawa Family from Arako wanted to mess with him, even if a large band of mountain brigands or river pirates attacked, the villagers would definitely gather together like they were defending their home, setting up layers of bamboo spears to help him fight foes, instead of handing him over to save their own skins!

Now, even his sleep was sounder!

......

The "Mongolian Doctor’s Survival Plan" was going quite well. Harano was even more enthusiastic about being a "Mongolian Divine Doctor," and his medical skills had improved greatly. In just a dozen or so days, he already had the air of a seasoned resident physician.

He half-closed his eyes as he finished taking the pulse, then checked the patient’s leg ulcer recovery, and gently instructed, "Mm, don’t worry too much. The pain is totally normal—it’s been festering too long, the abscess got too big. Of course it’ll take some suffering to heal. I’ll prescribe you a few more doses of this detoxifying, dampness-dispelling ointment. Apply one each day, and after you’re done, come back so I can check on you. There shouldn’t be any major problems now."

"Yes, sir!" The patient agreed crisply, and knelt down to kowtow to him. Whether it was obedience or the doctor–patient relationship, any modern doctor would be moved to tears.

"No need for that—go get your medicine." Being a well-educated modern young man, Harano naturally had no desire for anyone to kowtow to him. Do not do to others what you would not have them do to you. He didn’t need it, but this was just the custom of the age, and he couldn’t stop it anyway.

The patient headed off to the pharmacy shed with Yayoi to get the medicine. All sorts of eczema and leg ulcers were common in rural villages. Harano had made up several batches of ointments, so after picking them up, the villagers could just heat them up and apply them at home without troubling him further.

As for medical fees, this patient was dirt-poor—last time he brought two bundles of firewood, and this time he did the same, carrying in another big stack. Harano wouldn’t be running out of firewood to burn any time soon.

"Next!"

Once that patient left, Harano sat in his "clinic" and called the next number, but got no response. He called out twice more, still nothing, so he curiously lifted the straw curtain to see what was going on in the "waiting room"—which was just one bamboo shed divided into two. He was a stickler for cleanliness and didn’t want patients in his living quarters, so he’d made this little clinic out of straw and bamboo.

The whole thing was framed with bamboo, heavy straw curtains hung all around, and with a stove burning it wasn’t too cold—good enough for use.

The "waiting room" was empty except for Aki, that "strange kid," quietly sweeping the floor with her head down. Seeing her, Harano was momentarily at a loss for words.

Strange as it sounds, he and Aki had been living under the same roof for a month, eating together every day, yet until now, Aki hadn’t spoken a word to him—not once. In his mind, she’d earned a permanent label: [Weird Kid], to the point her poor social skills had almost become a stereotype.

But faced with this scene, Harano still forced himself to ask, "Um, are there no more patients?"

Aki looked up at him with cold eyes, and as their eyes met, she quickly dropped her gaze again, continuing to silently sweep the floor—she just didn’t want to mooch off so much rice for nothing, so she was working to help out. As for where the patients were or whether any were left, she didn’t know—couldn’t answer things like that.

The air turned awkward again. Why do such kids exist in this world...

Harano was even more exasperated, but luckily, Yayoi came back just then, carrying him a bowl of hot tea and gazing up at him with adoring eyes: "Lord Saburo, have some tea and take a break!"

Lately, she’d been helping Harano every day, acting as a temporary nurse, and had seen with her own eyes how thoroughly and attentively he treated the villagers. Whether the patients were poor and filthy or their wounds reeked, he always treated them with gentle kindness and did his best to help.

Even when faced with villagers who babbled incoherently and couldn’t explain their sickness, he never lost patience or raised his voice, not to mention slapping a patient—he really was the gentlest person in the world.

It was incredible—with more than a hundred patients cared for, he hadn’t hit a single one!

She was moved by this, and found Harano amazing—so kind he seemed to have a halo glowing behind his head. Now she paid special attention to his meals and comfort, worried he might go hungry or be uncomfortable.

Harano had no idea what she was thinking. Clueless, he thanked her and took the tea, and with a sense of relief asked, "What’s going on today? Why are there no more patients so early?" It was only afternoon. Usually, he’d be busy with consultations till it got dark.

"These are all the patients for today, I think. Most of them were coming in for follow-ups," Yayoi the little nurse quickly replied.

"Really? That’s a pity. There aren’t any more? People can’t just hide their illnesses! Could you go ask around the village again? If anyone’s sick, have them come right away!" Harano was just getting into his stride as doctor. Mainly, he hadn’t accumulated enough hands-on experience and wasn’t confident about treating his simpleton son just yet. But now the patients had all dried up—a bit disappointing. They were all minor maladies anyway. By village tradition, anyone seriously hurt or sick used to just get carried outside to die; major cases never turned up all at once.

As for vegetative cases, forget it—the village couldn’t support that sort of patient, so there wasn’t even a chance to try a treatment and see what happened.

Yayoi was even more moved by this, looking at Harano as if he glowed with soft focus, as if he were radiating a mysterious Buddhist light—a possible reincarnation of Bodhisattva Guanyin. Lord Harano really was so kind, really put his heart into medicine!

Aki also glanced up at Harano. Her eyes were still cold, but the faint hostility and resentment had nearly disappeared.

At first, she and the villagers suspected Harano had some sinister, nasty scheme, using the name of medicine to exploit innocent commoners, ready to suck out their marrow. But instead, Harano really did treat the villagers’ illnesses, and not only didn’t take advantage of anyone—he even chipped in his own money.

This shook her long-held beliefs. She began to wonder if maybe Harano wasn’t a bad person after all.

In fact, she was even more extreme than Ah Man. Ah Man thought all Samurai were bastards, but Aki went further—she thought all Samurai deserved to die. She was born in a Zong Village (an autonomous hamlet) in Omi, a tiny mountain village, just a dozen-odd families hiding from taxes and labor levies. When she was six, the village was overrun and everyone was slaughtered by the local lord. Even her, a little child, was stabbed once, and only survived because Ah Man happened by, looting corpses, and dragged her out of the pile of the dead.

So, hating the man means hating his house, too. In her heart, she had a deep-seated hatred for Samurai, believing every one of them deserved death. But looking at Harano now—with all his goodness—that belief was wavering. She felt maybe he didn’t deserve to die, maybe even that he was a genuinely good person.

Of course, she didn’t say a word. She just glanced once, then lowered her head to sweep again. Yayoi, though, played her role as the caring temporary maid, quickly comforting Harano in a gentle voice, "It’s really fine, Lord Saburo. You should get some rest, you’ve worked too hard lately."

Harano smiled and nodded, brushing off his minor regrets.

That’s fine, too. You can’t rush these things. For all he knew, someone might become a vegetable tomorrow—patience is key!